


and we'll bury these old ghosts down

by janie_tangerine



Series: some flowers bloom dead [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, What-If, everything you might expect if you read the Theon chapters in adwd, i warned you, major ADWD/ASOS/AFFC spoilers, the light at the end of the tunnel is marginally closer, this never happened, this particular part is a minefield of ramsay-related triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where there's a talk that can't be postponed, Theon comes clean about a few things and Robb comes to terms with what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we'll bury these old ghosts down

**Author's Note:**

> ... hi. No, I haven't forgotten about this. But, it happened that a) it ran away on me and it took me a long time to decide where I wanted it to go, b) RL has been a cruel mistress, c) I spent weeks editing this specific part, d) apparently lately I can't edit anything long-ish to my satisfaction in less than a a month. Anyway, I don't know how frequently I'll manage to update from now on because RL is still a cruel mistress, but since I *did* figure out how I want this to go, updates should come a tad more frequent than they've been since the last time. (Also, I realize that this part isn't heavy on plot, but I needed it to be a stand-alone before stuff actually starts to happen.) /o\
> 
> This said: they're still not mine, I own zilch, the title is from Gaslight Anthem. The only thing I own in here is the adwd-related headcanon, which I'm not sure is a great bargain.

Robb wakes up at the first morning light. He’s surprised that he even slept at all, but maybe sheer exhaustion had something to do with it. Not that he’s going to complain - he needed it. He looks down at Theon’s head, still resting on his shoulder. He really should go, if someone finds him here like this it would be a disaster, but he’s not so sure that he has the force of will to get out of bed yet. He sighs, runs a hand through the gray hair at the back of Theon’s head - he looks down at the roots, hoping to see them darker than that, but there’s no hope to be had on that front. The hair is as gray as it was the day Robb stormed into the Dreadfort. He sighs, wishing that the sight wouldn’t upset him as much as it does, and then he takes a minute to assess the situation. Theon’s most definitely thinner than he was when he left, which isn’t what Robb had hoped to see at all. At least he fixed his teeth somehow, but the overall impression isn’t as good as it could be.

Well, he figures, it could be worse.

The sky is barely pink right now, almost all blue. He has to go.

He can’t delay it any longer. He brings a hand to Theon’s shoulder, shaking him awake as softly as he can manage.

He wakes up in seconds, but at least his eyes don’t jerk open even if his shoulders turn stiff for a moment. When he looks up at Robb the stiffness is gone almost momentarily, and Robb doesn’t even try to make something of it. It would just give him more to think about and he can’t really afford it.

“I have to go,” he says, keeping his voice down. “Sorry about waking you up, but I figured you’d have preferred it.”

Theon looks at him, then at the window, then he nods. He obviously gets the point. “Of course. Thank you. You shouldn’t –”

“Don’t thank me. Just don’t.”

Theon nods and moves away from him, enough that Robb can get out of the bed and put on his shoes. (He doesn’t think about how cold it feels when he stands up.) After he’s done, he grabs his cloak from the chair he had put it on and stands up before tying it around his neck.

“Should I come?” Theon asks, obviously trying to make it sound as if it changes nothing whether he does or not.

Robb thinks he knows better.

“No. You still look like you can use some more rest. Come whenever you feel like it – I’ll put someone outside the room and tell them to bring you to the solar. I’ll be there all day regardless, so if you feel like sleeping it off for the entire morning do it.”

Theon seems about to say something – most probably _thank you_ – but then he thinks better of it and gives him a soft nod before turning his back to him.

Robb really hopes that he’s a bit more rested when he does come, because for the conversation they need to have, neither of them can afford not to have the entirety of their wits to themselves.

—

He goes to see Jeyne before going back upstairs - she looks good, and the baby does as well, and she assures him that she had no problems whatsoever even if he wasn’t there. He feels slightly less guilty.

He leaves instructions about Theon to one of the maids, then he goes searching for his great-uncle. When he’s told that no news came during the night he thanks him and heads for the solar.

He spends the next two hours trying to come up with some sensible way to deal with the Frey hostages’ situation, but he’s too distracted to even put some real effort into it. He looks down at maps that he has seen countless times without even reading the names on them, he glances restlessly out of the window hoping to see some ravens fly the castle’s way, but none appears.

When he’s told that Davos Seaworth wants a word with him, Robb is glad to say that he may come in right now. He doesn’t doubt that he might not like what he has to say, but at least it’ll be a distraction from his current worries.

“Your Grace,” Lord Davos says as he comes in.

“My lord. Can I do something for you? Are your chambers to your liking? Oh, and please, have a seat.”

“My chambers are more comfortable than most places I’ve slept in, you mustn’t concern yourself about that. I’m here because I thought you might want to hear how that trip to Pyke fared without details being omitted.”

“Such as?”

“For one, I’m quite sure that my previous charge, if asked, wouldn’t tell you that he could barely eat whenever we were on a ship.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“That in the time we spent together he threw up more food than he actually kept down.”

That explains some things, Robb thinks bitterly.

“I’m also quite sure that he’d leave other details out, and forgive me if I’m being too blunt, but I think you’d want to know them.”

Robb remembers what Theon told him the previous night.

“I guess it’s not use pretending with you, then,” Robb sighs before sitting down. “He told me something about you having realized that – that I hadn’t sent him on that mission just to pay his sister a courtesy.”

“Let’s say that if one has good eyes and has spent all his life among lords that would barely look his way before forgetting that he was there, he learns to see things that others might not. I know that you care about what happens to him. And I won’t be the one to tell, if you’re worried about that.”

Robb gives him a nod, not bothering to deny anything. It’s not even worth it. “So, what else do you have to tell me?”

“Well, overall it all went as smooth as it could have. But if we’re talking about details, well – he’s far from all right. Or even near all right. I had to share a room with him some days, and he never slept through an entire night. I think it has something to do with the whole part where he doesn’t keep his food in his stomach.”

 _Better and better_ , Robb thinks bitterly. It wasn’t like that, before he left.

“And what do you think about it?”

“I think that I’ve never met a man whose guilt crushed him as much.”

“Wait. You think that it’s because of that?”

“I think that whatever happened to him was bad enough on its own, and I won’t start about one exchange that I had with him about the circumstances of how we both lost our fingers, but – well. From what I gathered, he thinks he deserves relieving it all over, and that’s what I call being crippled by your own guilt. If I made myself clear.”

“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, my lord.” Even too much. And the problem is that even if Theon _had_ technically killed his brothers and torched Winterfell, Robb still thinks that he’d have deserved to lose his head with the least number of strokes possible, not – not Ramsay Snow, damn it.

“If I understood the way he thinks, most probably he won’t say anything about it. But I also know something that I don’t think he’d share willingly. And that you might not know already.”

“What would that be?”

“That among the most common things he says while he sleeps, there’s one interesting part about begging you to find him, kill him and put him out of his misery.”

Robb feels as if someone just threw a bucket of cold water on his head.

No, he hadn’t known _that_. And if Theon never said anything of that kind whenever they slept in the same bed -

Robb isn’t sure that he likes how this sounds at all.

“I see,” he says, trying to keep his tone even. “I hadn’t imagined. But – thank you, my lord. I think I should have known that.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought as well. May I – may I be very frank with you? About the reasons why I told you.”

“My lord, you can be as frank as you wish.” Robb thinks that he understands why he’s _Stannis_ ’s Hand out of all the kings in Westeros. This is the kind of man Stannis would like.

“Well, from what I’ve seen of the Greyjoys, and from what I’ve seen of your… hostage, if we don’t take his mother into account, there’s exactly one person in Westeros that cares about what happens to him, one way or the other.”

Robb already knows what’s coming.

“That person would be you. Which is probably more than he thinks he deserves, but the point is that if it’s the case, then you should know what you’re dealing with.”

Doesn’t he know it. But Robb also knows that Davos Seaworth hasn’t said one wrong thing since he started talking.

“You’re right,” Robb says. “I’ll – I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your honesty.”

Lord Davos looks at him and gives him a curt nod. “No need for that. Well, I’ve said my piece. I’ll take my leave, if you have no more need of me.”

“I have no more need of you. Thank you again.”

Lord Davos bows his head and leaves, and Robb puts his head in his hands.

Two people already know or found out. At least he should be glad that it’s two people he trusts (or that seem trustworthy), but still, it’s not as if he can do much about it if he has to keep his distance in front of the rest of his allies and bannerman and soldiers.

Before he can think about it any longer, the guard outside leads Theon inside the room.

He doesn’t look much more rested than he was before, but he obviously took a bath and put on clean clothes, and that’s enough to make him look a tad better.

“I hadn’t thought you’d be here this early,” Robb says before standing up and sending away the guard. Then he locks the door.

He can’t risk anyone hearing whatever they’re going to say.

Theon is looking down at his feet when he turns back towards him.

“I didn’t feel like sleeping much longer.”

That’s half a lie. Robb wouldn’t be surprised if the real answer had been, _I couldn’t even if I tried_.

“All right then. Take a seat. We have to talk.”

Theon takes a seat and doesn’t say anything else.

Robb sits on the other side of the desk and figures that he’s going to have to start.

“I’ll start. Some things happened while you were gone. First, the one you already know about. Rickon is in White Harbor. I’ll go get him at some point soon, but I couldn’t do it until now because my wife gave birth to a daughter exactly six hours after I received that letter.”

Theon looks up at him at that. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he should congratulate him or not. “That’s – are they – did that go well?” he settles on.

“As well as it could have. If you were wondering about screams in the night, that’s the reason.”

For a moment, Theon looks relieved. As if he’s glad to know he hadn’t imagined it.

“Then, there’s this.”

He pushes Jon’s letter over the desk. Theon takes it with his right hand, the fingers slightly shaking, and the more he reads of it, the more his hand trembles.

He lets it fall on the desk and Robb can’t tell if the emotion on his face is relief, fear or something else.

He’s sure that the main point hasn’t been missed, though. With those letters, no one could doubt about whether Theon had lied in order to save himself when he told Robb that his brothers hadn’t really died.

“I’m –” Theon starts, then swallows, then speaks again. His voice is barely audible. “I’m glad they’re not – that even if they had to run because of what I did they’re still – I’m sorry I ever did it.”

“I think I know that,” Robb answers, his voice a bit softer than he had thought it would be, but then again it’s plain that he can’t stay angry at Theon anyway, even if sometimes he wishes he could be.

“Still -”

“I just figured it was the case to put that in the open. Now, do you have something to tell me?”

“Not really. I mean. It went better than I expected.”

“ What about your mother?”

“She doesn’t have long left, but – well. I’m glad I could see her. Thank -”

“Don’t thank me. It’s fine. Anything else?”

“My sister says that she’ll most surely win.”

“Good. Is there more to say?”

“No. What else would there be?”

 _Gods_ , Robb thinks, _Davos Seaworth was right through and through_.

“Well, how are you?”

“How am – I’m fine.”

“Ser Davos thinks otherwise.”

“What?” Why does Theon look half-worried now?

“He came for a small hearing this morning. And he told me a couple of interesting things. Among which, something that explains why you’re thinner than you were before you left.”

“It’s – it’s nothing. Really, I’m not –”

“You are. Only a blind man wouldn’t see it. And you still look like someone who hasn’t slept in days. Not to mention that apparently eating doesn’t suit you much, lately?”

Theon shudders, still looking down at his hands. _Like a mouse caught in a trap_ , Robb thinks wearily.

“That’s not – that’s nothing. I’ll get over it. You shouldn’t concern yourself.”

“Seriously? Theon, for – do you remember what I told you, before I agreed to let you go back?”

Theon gives him a nod. Still doesn’t look at him in the eyes.

“If you do, then you also know that regardless of what everyone thinks I should do, I’m very much concerned. I don’t – I don’t need you to be some kind of shadow that thanks me profusely for everything I do and keeps its problems for itself. All right? I have no idea what I’m even doing here, but I think it’s clear that I don’t plan on having your head.”

“Oh, that was – that wasn’t the issue. What did he tell you?” He sounds almost resigned now.

“He told me that you throw up most of what you eat and that you beg me to give you some kind of merciful death while you sleep.”

Theon goes slightly paler at that, and Robb knows that it’s the truth. It takes barely a look at his eyes to know that.

He swallows. “It’s all true.”

“Then why’s that?” Robb asks. The gods know he wishes he could not know, but - that’s not the point.

Theon looks down at his hands, then up at him again. When he starts speaking, his voice is thinner than Robb ever remembers it being.

“I don’t – it started a bit after I left. I’m not sure of why. Or how. But the farther that ship went, the worst I slept at night. And by the time I had to be in the same room as Ser Davos – well. It got bad enough that – it’s not always the same. Sometimes it’s my father, sometimes it’s your father when he and his men put Pyke to the torch, other times is everything that went horribly at Winterfell. Most times it’s – it’s him, though. And – I understood no one was going to ransom me early enough. Then those couple of attempts at escaping went badly. That was when it didn’t stop at flaying anymore.” He stops, takes a breath, speaks again as if he has to put a lot of effort into it. “He started with – with the whole Reek deal. And at the same time – after the second time he cut a finger from my feet, I knew that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. By then – dying almost seemed like a blessing, in comparison to the rest. And after it got worse, I started hoping that you’d come.”

“That _I_ would?”

“It was far-fetched. But – if you had found out about the Boltons being turncloaks, you might have stormed the Dreadfort, and then you’d have found me there, and – I had no illusions about what would happen. I knew you’d want my head. But I also knew that – that you’re your father’s son. You’d have dragged me outside and cut it at once and then it’d have been over. I knew he was never going to kill me mercifully, and that his father wasn’t either. But I knew that you would have.”

He’s kept his voice even until now, as if he’s reciting facts, and Robb doesn’t know what to make of it, he doesn’t know what to say, because fuck, what do you say when you’re told _this_? He doesn’t think he can begin to deal with the amount of wrongness he just heard.

And then he realizes that there was something even more disturbing in that statement.

“You said after it got worse.”

Theon takes a deep breath, looks down at his hands. As if he’s bracing himself. “That’s what I couldn’t tell you when you asked the first time,” he whispers. Then breathes in again. “Once, when I lost one of my toes, it – it wasn’t a clean cut. Maybe it was on purpose. But it got infected and someone came to treat me. Maybe his father forced him to because I was still somehow valuable, but I think that he just wasn’t done with me yet. I don’t know. But that’s not it. That maester gave me some strong dreamwine.” He stops again. “I don’t – I don’t really remember what happened after. It’s all hazy and I’m not even sure that I want to know. But when I came back to my senses – it hurt to walk. Or to stand up at all. And it wasn’t because of my feet.”

Robb thinks he’s going to feel sick. He hadn’t thought it could be possible after what he heard the first time, but apparently he was wrong.

“And – it’s not as if I had clean clothes on. But – I’m pretty sure there was blood on what was left of them.” He stops again. Takes another breath. “That time, I was sure I had imagined it. But then – then it happened again. And again. And no one gave me dreamwine before. And that was when – when it got worse. I’d have killed myself if only there had been a sure way to do it. But I had few options, and none of those meant that I’d have died quickly and without risks of anyone finding out until after it was done. And I didn’t – if I had tried and someone caught me – well. I wasn’t in a hurry to make him angrier.”

 _If the gods saw fit to give me Ramsay Snow for a second time, I’d kill him all over again_ , Robb thinks. _And not as quickly as I did the first_. His throat feels so dry that he doesn’t think he can speak, and he has no fucking clue of how Theon hadn’t completely lost his wits by the time they found him.

“I think he knew,” Theon keeps on. “That I hoped you’d come to put me out of my misery. I don’t think he’d have bothered to tell me that you were dead otherwise.”

“You told me you hadn’t wanted to believe it, once,” Robb says. His voice is almost as low as Theon’s.

“It was - well. He threw your mother’s hair at me. If he wanted to prove me that you were dead, why wouldn’t he give me yours?”

Robb can’t help it - he has to admire that Theon still sounds as if he’s keeping himself fairly together. He almost regrets asking him anything at all. If _he_ ’s feeling sick right now, he doesn’t even want to know how it is for Theon. No, he really doesn’t.

“And that’s what you dream about every damned night?”

“Do I have to tell you the truth?”

“Please do.” No matter how much Robb fears it.

“Not if you’re somewhere near.” That part is barely audible, and fuck, fuck, Robb knew, and this is going to be a problem because now that he has a confirmation of it spoken out loud, he also knows he can’t keep on doing what he used to do before Theon left. Even if – gods, he would, if he could, and that’s not what he should be thinking right now, but he had never wanted any of it. He had never wished _that_ on Theon in his worst moments. Oh, he had wished that he could be in front of him so that Robb could kill him with his own hands, sure, but never - never that. If it makes him a better person than Ramsay Snow, that isn’t much of a consolation.

“And you were never going to say anything about this.” He tries not to sound too judging.

“Robb, what good would it have done? And – well. It’s not as if I don’t deserve it.”

“What?”

“I dug my own fucking grave,” Theon whispers. “It’s only right that I should pay the price of it. You know my house’s words, don’t you? Well, I got them wrong and I’ve sown. And I’m reaping.”

If Robb had wanted a further (and needless) confirm that Ser Davos had been right about all of his assumptions, that was it.

And –

All right. Seven hells, there’s just – he doesn’t know if he’ll eventually regret it or not, but he’s said it out loud to Jeyne, and the moment he did, he admitted it to himself, and even if no one would agree with it (Theon less than everyone else, he thinks) he needs to do it for his own peace of mind.

“I forgive you.”

It comes out a lot surer than he had imagined it would.

Theon falls silent at once.

Then he looks up at Robb, and he looks scared out of his mind. “You’re japing. You must be japing.”

“I’m not.” He’s said it, he’s not taking it back.

“ _Why_? Why in the seven hells would you do that? I haven’t – I haven’t done anything to earn it. And for that matter I never will. There aren’t enough years in a man’s life to make up for what I did.”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Robb says softly. Then he stands up and takes a chair on the other side of the desk. “I know you haven’t earned it, and that it would take a whole lot of time to do it. But – all right. Just hear me out. I wanted you dead. I’m not going to deny it. Then I found out that you hadn’t even done the two things I was angrier about, and –I had to come to terms with knowing that Ramsay fucking Snow had done a lot worse than I ever would have. I mean, I wanted your head, not – not that. And – I know that you’re sorry.”

“Of course I am, but that doesn’t -”

“Let me finish. My father is dead, my mother is dead, I have no idea of where my siblings are except for Jon and Rickon, my wife’s mother has been trying to kill her child for half of Jeyne’s pregnancy, my wolf died at the darned Red Wedding too. I’m sick tired of people I care about dying left and right. This war isn’t over still and more will probably come, and out of everyone that grew up with me, you’re apparently the only one that is here right now and even if I shouldn’t want it… I can’t really throw that away. I want to fix things. I don’t know if we can, but I want to try. As it is, and with everything I know now, I think I can get over it. In a long time. But there’s no way it will go anywhere if you think you deserved what happened to you. Or if you think that knowing you still have nightmares about it might make me feel… I don’t know. Vindicated or something like that.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. I never wished that on you. At worst, I wished to kill you with my bare hands. But not after a round or two or ten of flaying and cutting limbs. And if you ever want to make it up to me, you won’t do it while you - while you think that you’re reaping what you’ve sown. I can’t forget what you did. I can’t do this openly because my bannermen would have _my_ head after yours. But as it is, right now, just between us, I need to do it. And I need to mean it. Otherwise we’ll never find out if we can get over it at all.”

The speech leaves him feeling drained, but just getting it out is making him feel a whole lot better. Looking at Theon’s stupid, wide, hopeful eyes is making him feel - he doesn’t know how to put it. Better isn’t the word for it, though.

“You forgive me.” He sounds as if he can’t believe he’s saying it.

“Gods help me, yes. I do. And if you’re thinking about doing something like – like bending the knee or thanking me or else, just don’t. I don’t need it. I don’t want it, for that matter. After what I just heard, the idea of you doing it makes me want to punch a wall.”

“All right,” Theon whispers, still as if he can’t believe what he’s just heard. “All right. Can I – at least can I tell you that I will try to make it up to you?”

“That you can. That I expect, actually, but that’s the one thing.”

“It’s more than – more than I ever -”

“What – oh, don’t. You don’t have to, just _don’t_.” Not that it’s much use. The moment Theon’s voice broke before it, was clear that he’s crying. And that wasn’t what Robb was fishing for, it really wasn’t. He stands up from the chair and when he crouches on the floor and grabs Theon’s hands, Theon doesn’t even attempt to fight it. Damn. He’s crying, sure, but at least it doesn’t seem like the bad kind of tears. More or less.

“That’s not what I was –”

“Robb, it isn’t – I never dared dreaming of that. Hearing it from you.” He’s trying to keep himself together, that’s obvious, but it isn’t working too well.

“Still, that wasn’t what I was hoping for. I think you’ve had enough of it, haven’t you?”

Theon shrugs, moving one of his hands back to his face. He dries his eyes with the back of his wrist, swallows visibly and then seems to be fairly in control again. Or as in control as it gets.

“Oh, I had more than enough,” he says under his breath. “But it was never for a good reason.”

“You still don’t look much like it was for a good reason, though.”

Theon gives him another half-hearted shrug. “I haven’t felt that in so long, I might as well have forgotten how to show it.”

His tone is still matter-of-fact, so much that Robb feels sick for a second.

“You could begin to work on that promise about making it up to me with giving that a try.” He has no clue of where that came from, but if it works, then all the better.

“You don’t like asking for easy things, do you?”

“There’s no one else in here. And it’s nothing I hadn’t seen even before you had it fixed.”

“That’s barely a fix.”

“Humor me.”

“Would you mind if – if we could go outside a moment?”

He probably means the solar’s balcony, Robb reasons. He has no idea of why Theon would ask for it, but it’s easy enough to accomplish.

“Of course.”

He stands up and opens the door that leads to the balcony, then walks out. It’s a nice view – the river is right below them, and it’s also a decent weather for late autumn. It’s not hot by any means, but it’s not chilly, either, and the sun is out.

Theon joins him a bit later. He stands next to him but not close enough for their shoulders to touch or anything of the sort, his hands going to grasp the stone ledge.

“It’s nice here,” he says, his voice still low. “On Harlaw, it rained most of the time. I thought I liked it, once.”

“You thought you liked it?”

“I should have understood that I lost my taste for it the first time I was back to the islands. And on every ship I was on, I didn’t exactly have the time to enjoy being on the outside.”

That’s when Robb gets it. He kind of wants to throw up over the ledge – not counting when they were moving from one place to the other, it’s not like Theon has been _out_ much, technically. And he spent what, six months in a dungeon? No, probably some more. Of course he’d appreciate some sunlight. Robb takes a better look at him, now that there aren’t clouds in the sky. He’s thinner, all right, though not as bad off as he was when they found him (at least). There’s no brown in the roots of his hair indeed, he wasn’t mistaken this morning, and Robb has to admit defeat – the situation doesn’t look as if it’s improving.

“You really meant it,” Theon says then, still looking down at the river.

“Do I have to sign you a royal decree in order to make you believe it?”

Theon shakes his head twice before turning back to face him. “Robb, the last thing I want from you is a royal decree.”

Right. Because the last time Robb gave him a royal decree –

Robb knows that his eyes have widened at once. He isn’t sure he heard that right.

“Was that supposed to be a joke? And in extremely poor taste, for that matter?”

“I hope Your Grace forgives me if it wasn’t good – actually, it was horrible. But it’s been a while.”

For a moment, Robb has no idea of what he’s supposed to do.

Then the absurdity of the situation crashes down on him (and seriously, _seriously_ , he doesn’t know how Theon found it in him to joke about _that_ particular thing) and he can’t avoid it. He breaks down laughing, and he thinks that it sounds a tad hysterical, but after the last month maybe he’s allowed, and Theon is looking at him as if he can’t seriously believe that it worked, and it just makes Robb laugh even harder.

“How in the seven hells was that funny?” he asks on cue the moment Robb manages to stop himself. He looks sincerely baffled.

“Oh, it was as horrible as you think. It’s just – I guess I needed to hear it.”

“Right. You know it makes no sense, don’t you?”

“Who says it has to?”

And at that, the corner of Theon’s mouth quirks up, just slightly, but enough for Robb to see it. It seems to die right there, but –

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“You were about to do it. And then you stopped yourself. Don’t I get even a bit more of an effort?”

Theon breathes in – a long one, as if he’s trying to pull himself together, and Robb has reached out before he knows, his hand touching Theon’s face, his thumb’s fingertip barely touching the curve of Theon’s lips, the same as he did before Theon left for Pyke for the second time.

There’s a moment when they just look at each other, and Robb doesn’t even know how to put into words what passes through his head– but he knows that among the rest, he’s thinking _please do it, even if it’s just for my own peace of mind please do it_.

“I was such an idiot,” Theon whispers then, so low that Robb hears it just because there are mere inches between them.

“Always thought that you were one, even before you left for the first time,” Robb answers, and there’s absolutely no bite in his voice.

“I should have been with you the whole time,” Theon says, and he sounds pained, but then he takes another shallow breath and his mouth curls up in a grin that is nowhere as confident as the one that was on his face most of the time back when Ned Stark was still alive used to be. It’s also kind of shaky and nowhere as charming, but it’s wide enough that Robb can see most of his teeth, and as Robb traces it lightly all over again, the only thing that comes to mind is that pushing it was entirely worth the result.

“You should do it more often. It suits you,” he says, knowing that his voice isn’t exactly firm. He doesn’t sound like a king at all. And he doesn’t think he minds.

“I don’t think that many people would agree with you,” Theon replies, but he doesn’t stop smiling entirely. It stays there, as if it won’t go now that it’s finally found its way out.

“Why, does any opinion other than mine count?”

“I suppose not,” Theon says, and when three fingers curl delicately around Robb’s wrist, Robb doesn’t even try moving it away. “Do you have any other mighty opinion to share, _your Grace_?”

That sounds only mildly sarcastic, but Robb can see from miles that Theon is putting some effort in this, and he won’t be the one to point out that the results aren’t exactly the best that could be.

“Not for now. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ll regret anything I did this morning.”

Theon gives him a soft nod as his eyes become slightly wider, but he doesn’t protest against the statement and it’s good enough for Robb. They walk back inside the solar in silence, and then Theon heads for the door, walking as if it hurts to put one foot in front of the other. Right. In his case, that’s most probably true.

“You don’t have to go,” Robb says softly before Theon can think of leaving.

“I - I don’t?”

Robb gives him a small shrug. “I’m not working on some kind of secret plan. Everyone in this castle knows that I have a number of problems with the name Frey on it to take care of before even thinking about moving against anyone else. And being alone in here drives me insane most of the time. If you want to stay just unlock that door and take a seat - you don’t look like you’re in the mood to walk back all the way to your room.”

“Oh. Well. If you don’t mind -”

“Believe me, I don’t. Actually, stay. Take it as a royal order. Or whatever.”

Theon nods at him again and unlocks the door, then he goes to sit on the chair he was occupying before. He doesn’t say anything, and he keeps his thoughts for himself in the next two hours or so (during which no one knocks or passes by), but Robb can see that once in a while he smiles a small, half-hopeful grin to himself.

If he shouldn’t feel as pleased about it as he actually does, for now he can’t care less.

End.


End file.
